


Fair Play

by Re_Adrienne



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Kuroko Tetsuya, But only for Akashi, Caring Dom Akashi Seijuurou, Cock Rings, Conveniently Absent Parents, Dom/sub, FML, I Ship It, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Kuroko is a cockslut, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Post-Winter Cup, Pretty fluffy all things considered, Top Akashi Seijuurou, Underage Sex, Vibrators, Why do I do this to myself, You Have Been Warned, almost forgot that one, oh shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Re_Adrienne/pseuds/Re_Adrienne
Summary: Over a week after winning the Winter Cup, Kuroko finally gets his reward.





	Fair Play

The stadium is dark and cavernous. Faces blend together in the stands, and Kuroko can’t spot his teammates on the court, can’t hear his own breathing in his ears above the roar of the crowd. He realizes he is kneeling. His knees begin to ache from the hardwood as he looks up at Akashi. His former captain’s left eye glints orange as he looks down his nose at him, and Kuroko feels the full effect of the implicit reprimand as a bead of sweat drips down the back of his neck and he fights a chill.

“You too, Tetsuya. You better be prepared if you’re planning to fight me,” Akashi says, “The one who discovered your talent is me. You’ll come to realize what that means.”

 _I know what it means_ , Kuroko thinks, an inexplicable, desperate feeling spreading through his chest.  _I know what it means, Akashi-kun._ He wants to say it, feels his lips part before he even decides to speak, the urge to make himself known always so much stronger when it comes to Akashi. He tries to form words and finds his voice has abandoned him. His throat has closed in on itself; his lungs contract but he can’t receive oxygen, and his knees are starting to burn. The other players have disappeared. The stadium is empty. He looks up at Akashi as his vision darkens at the edges, meets his impassive gaze as the red haired boy brushes his fingers over Kuroko’s throat.

“Say, Tetsuya,” Akashi says, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, “are you sure you want to fight me?”

 _Who are you?_ Kuroko has never stopped asking the question, not since the first time it left his lips.

Akashi grins down at him, orange, snake-like eyes absorbing light. “You did all of this for me, right Tetsuya?”

The room is blurring in front of him, and Kuroko can’t keep his eyes focused on Akashi’s face. He sways forward and braces for the hardwood, but is instead met with flesh as Akashi squats down in front of him and grabs him by the shoulders, bringing their chests together as he speaks directly into Kuroko’s ear. The solid feel of his body shocks Kuroko’s system, as no matter how many times he’s proven wrong, he can’t help but think of touching Akashi as being like trying to comb his fingers through fire—intangible, and yet it leaves a burn.

“You’re still fighting for me, Tetsuya,” he sighs, and Kuroko can feel his wicked grin against the shell of his ear, “You never even left my team.”

Kuroko jolts awake into total darkness, heart pounding against his ribs. He gasps air into his lungs in a series of frantic breaths, hands fisting in his blankets. His eyes are wide open, but he sees nothing but shadows.

* * *

After the match against Rakuzan, his teammates and classmates start asking questions that don’t feel like questions. Questions like, “Why didn’t you tell me you played for Teikō” and “You and Akashi-kun were close, huh?” Kagami is the only one who ever asks the question he means to ask, directly.

“What was he like, as team captain?”

Sitting on the floor of the gym with his back to the wall, Kuroko stops tying his shoes and closes his eyes, considers the question. _What was he like?_

Akashi was judge and jury, rewarding every perfect pass and punishing every fault. He was pain and relief, the one to take him down a notch in practice and heal him back up in the privacy of his apartment. He was the wound and the weapon, so afraid of falling behind that he tore apart the Generation of Miracles with only a cold glance in their direction.

He was the one place Kuroko could safely fall apart.

He was lazy days relaxing on the lawn at school. He was hours upon hours of after-practice practice and personalized coaching. He was early mornings on weekends, the feel of hands on thighs, the taste of lips on lips, the sounds of whispered words against the shell of his ear in the dark, and so, so much more. But above all, he was the hollow sound of a single ball bouncing to stillness in center court.

_‘The one who discovered your talent is me. You’ll come to realize what that means.’_

“He was our captain,” Kuroko says mildly, and resumes tying his shoes.

* * *

It’s been over a week since the Winter Cup.

The loud, rubber screeches of shoes on the hardwood floor bounce off Seirin’s main gymnasium walls, overlapping with the dull smacks of balls against hands, the loud rattling of the backboard after another missed shot, another perfect swish, another hard dunk.

Kuroko takes a liberal swig from his water bottle and sets it down next to him and his bag on the bench. Sweat drips down from his bangs into his left eye and he blinks it away, ignoring the sting. He has made three bad passes today. Last night he woke up three times from the same recurring dream. There are dark bags under his eyes. He feels jittery and hollow, mind sluggish and reflexes dulled. Aida tried to give him a physical exam, since her usual once-over didn’t pick up anything overly significant, but Kuroko managed to avoid it just by waiting for her to lose track of him in the room again, then walking away. Kuroko closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward, resting his elbows on his knees, taking slow, measured breaths.

His ringtone goes off inside his bag, drawing his eyes open and up from the court floor as he unzips it and reaches inside. He feels around the clumped fabrics of his school uniform and two different pairs of shoes before he touches the cool, smooth surface of his phone. He fishes it out, flips it open, and puts it to his ear without checking the caller.

“Yes?”

“Kuroko.”

Kuroko’s fingers tighten around the phone, mouth suddenly dry despite that last drink of water. “Akashi-kun.”

Even through a speaker, hearing Akashi’s quiet breaths this close to his ear raises the hair on his neck. His sweat cools rapidly against his skin, and he stands abruptly just to feel like he isn’t freezing in place.

“How is your body?” Akashi’s voice is a soft, low pitch that makes the muscles in Kuroko’s shoulders tense instinctively. For all the time it’s been, Akashi checking on his physical health is bittersweet, both strange and familiar.

“Good,” Kuroko says, licks his cracked lips, and quickly begins making his way towards the doors to the gym without drawing the attention of his teammates.

Kuroko tries to picture where Akashi is right now, wonders if he is still at school, if he just finished practice. The image of Akashi drenched in sweat, leaning casually against the wall across from him after losing their match—that intense heat in his blood-red eyes—is burned into his mind. The words he said have been bouncing around Kuroko’s head ever since the moment they left Akashi’s mouth.  _Thank you, Kuroko._

The sounds of practice fade out as he slides the gym door closed behind him, and the chill in the evening breeze bites at his sweat-cooled skin.

Akashi’s sigh is impatient, evaluative. “Have you eaten?”

Kuroko scuffs his shoes on the pavement, looks out over the limited part of Seirin’s campus that he can see while standing in front of the gym. The sun has nearly set, but it’s still throwing colors at the skyline—red, orange, purple, gold.

“No,” he says, truthfully.

He hears Akashi hum in light disapproval, and the unmistakable intimacy of the sound makes Kuroko ache for Teikō, for the times Akashi would follow him home and press bags of ice to his knees and wrists, bribing him to stay still with promises of vanilla shakes if they won their next game. The reality that this is as close to the old Akashi as anyone will ever get, that Kuroko can finally have a conversation with his—former—captain (he corrects the mistake before it even happens) warms his limbs like an easy, after-practice workout.

“If I take the nozomi I can be at your place in three hours,” Akashi says, casually.

It takes Kuroko a second to catch up and process the statement. “You want to come over?”

“Will you let me?”

Kuroko’s eyes close of their own volition, his throat contracting reflexively, endorphins buzzing under his skin just from hearing those words again after such a long time. He can’t remember the last time Akashi asked for permission.

“Yes,” he says, only slightly breathless.

“Alright. See you.”

“Yeah,” Kuroko says, listens for the click of Akashi hanging up, and falls back against the gymnasium wall.

* * *

Discarded takeout boxes line the coffee table in Kuroko’s small Tokyo apartment. Akashi is sitting next to him on his inexpensive grey couch with one arm over the back. Kuroko sits rigidly in contrast to the other’s relaxed posture; every time Akashi’s fingers toy with a lock of hair at the base of his head a series of shivers run through his body, and he has to bite his cheek and clench his fists to keep still. He forces his eyes to never stray more than a foot from the muted television, pretends to read the subtitles of the American movie Akashi put on even though he can feel Akashi’s eyes on him unwaveringly. They haven’t been alone like this since the summer after graduating from Teikō—the last time Kuroko had a weak moment and found himself outside of Akashi’s door, begging him to take the edge off for him.

“Sometimes,” Kuroko says, pausing to lick his lips as he feels Akashi shift closer, “Sometimes I miss being on the same team. Not how it was at the end but...”

Kuroko purses his lips as the thought trails off. A woman on the screen is in an ambulance, trying to revive a man using CPR. Kuroko doesn’t flinch when Akashi slides his hand up his neck into his hair. His eyes flutter closed and he leans into the touch, but he doesn’t relax, doesn’t want to raise his expectations no matter how badly he wants to stop guessing what each of Akashi’s touches means, wants to stop thinking altogether.

“Sometimes I forget about everything and almost call you something I shouldn’t,” Kuroko says.

Akashi makes a thoughtful noise low in his throat, rubbing a strand of Kuroko’s hair between his fingers. “You should call me what you want,” he says.

Kuroko has no trouble recognizing that tone of voice, feels his body begin to react positively without his permission. Akashi knows exactly what Kuroko wants to call him.

“Are you spending the night?” Kuroko asks, and feels accomplished because his voice doesn’t shake.

The hand in his hair tightens. “If you want.”

It’s the question in Akashi’s tone that forces Kuroko to open his eyes and truly look at the other. Akashi’s expression has melted into that neutral calm that reminds Kuroko of a resting predator lounging in his territory after a long day. The television is the only light on in the apartment, and the way it accentuates all of Akashi’s lines, his sharp collar bones, his defined jaw and perfect nose, makes Kuroko’s gut twist and ache.

“Do you want me to stay, Kuroko?”

Kuroko looks past Akashi into the dark kitchen, tries to remember the soothing sounds of Akashi pouring coffee in the morning. He vaguely recalls Akashi leaning on a countertop, his white uniform shirt completely undone in the front, exposing his muscular but-still-developing chest and abdominals, a pair of grey sweats hanging off his hips. Kuroko can see the edges of his sharp smile over the rim of a ceramic mug.  _Call in sick, Tetsuya. I’ll take care of your body._

“I want you to stay,” he says.

“And if I say no?”

Kuroko’s eyes flick to Akashi instinctually. Akashi’s eyebrows are pulling into a frown, eyes fixed on Kuroko’s hands, folded on his lap. For a moment, Kuroko isn’t sure how to interpret the words, and it isn’t until then that he realizes Akashi has never actually denied him this—not even after Kuroko opposed him and made his challenge, not even when Kuroko showed up on his doorstep afterwards, broken and desperate and begging for  _one more time, just one more._ Akashi was rough, punishing, cold and humiliating, brought him to tears before bringing him to climax. But even then, Akashi didn’t leave him dangling in subspace, still held him tightly and sighed soothing words against his ear, let Kuroko fall asleep in his bed, let him sneak out in the morning and pretend it never happened.

“If you say no…” Kuroko exhales slowly, closes his eyes and takes the question seriously. Akashi accepts nothing but the truth. He opens his eyes and meets Akashi’s waiting gaze with confidence. “If you say no, I’ll ask again.”

Akashi’s eyes flick over Kuroko’s face, most likely tracking and interpreting every minute facial twitch. Kuroko doesn’t try to hide anything, tries to open himself up. Akashi releases his grip on Kuroko’s hair and leisurely peels himself off of the couch, bending his arms over his head and stretching with a relaxed sigh while he looks down at Kuroko, a cold smirk growing on his lips even as his eyes soften and burn like coal.

“You walked away, Kuroko,” he says, “that isn’t easy to forget.”

Kuroko smooths his palms over the coarse fabric of the couch cushion and looks up at Akashi with something like awe, because, despite all the wrong signals, Kuroko immediately recognizes what this is, sees it in the eyes: forgiveness, an apology.

“You left me no choice,” Kuroko says, tone firm, absolute.  _We did what we could._

The tension leaves Akashi’s smirk, and he holds out a hand, palm up. Kuroko stares at new calluses and veins he didn’t have a chance to notice during the Winter Cup. Akashi’s hands seem larger now, stronger than they were a year ago. Kuroko takes another slow breath before tentatively grabbing hold of him, then lets Akashi easily pull him off of the couch to standing. He doesn’t mind how Akashi’s fingers slide up his hand to squeeze his wrist.

“Tell me what you want,” he says slowly, pulling a small shiver from Kuroko, whose eyelids shutter briefly.

When he gathers his suddenly breathless voice, there is no hesitation. “Take care of me.”

Akashi tightens his hand around his wrist painfully, and Kuroko’s eyes open involuntarily as Akashi pulls him forward, weaving around the coffee table and toward Kuroko’s bedroom as if it were his own apartment. Kuroko examines the strong lines of Akashi’s back through his t-shirt in the flickering light of the television as they round the corner into the short hallway and head for his open doorway. Kuroko is guided into the darkness of his room with a hand on his low back, and the bedroom door slides closed behind him with a hollow  _click_ , throwing them into sudden darkness.

Kuroko blinks into the pitch black, startling when he feels calloused hands slide up his sides. Akashi’s lightly spiced scent fills his senses, and his body radiates warmth against Kuroko’s chest as Akashi steps in closer. Kuroko exhales too loudly and shivers as Akashi brushes his lips across his cheekbone, breaths coming slow and humid against his skin. A hand pushes up his back over the top of his shirt and grips Kuroko’s hair tightly, and he suppresses a small moan as Akashi uses his hold on his hair to tug his head back and drag his lips down and back up his exposed neck and over his jaw and lips, teeth just barely grazing his mouth.

“You’ve done so much on your own, Kuroko,” he says, walking them back toward the futon without relinquishing his hold, Kuroko nearly tripping over stray clothes and notebooks as they go, “you should have come to me sooner.”

Kuroko’s lungs falter and he digs his fingers into Akashi’s forearms as he is gently guided down to his knees on the futon, able to feel Akashi standing in front of him by unclenching his hands and dragging his palms down and back up the slightly taller male’s muscled calves. It has only been a year, but the differences in their bodies are immense; Kuroko feels lost time with his fingertips in every inch of Akashi’s toned legs, and it tugs at his chest. Being in the dark like this is almost like being blindfolded, and it draws out memories of being prostrated and gagged on Akashi’s bed, of the type of release that Kuroko can only get by giving up all of his control and bending to the will of one person alone; he has spent the entire year terrified he would never get that person back.

“It’s okay to submit to me, Tetsuya,” Akashi says, and Kuroko lets Akashi’s captivating voice roll through him like a deep-tissue massage, bows his head on reflex, breaths coming shorter and louder in the space between them. “I’ll take care of you.”

 _Please_. Kuroko shudders untouched, buries his face in the front of Akashi’s clothed hips and clings to his thighs through his gym shorts. He is starved, thirsty, after a year in the desert, and Akashi is dangling that first drop of water over his tongue, just waiting for it to fall. Kuroko can already feel himself begin to drift, can feel the strings of his constant, painful awareness begin to snap, one by one.

“ _Taichou_.”

Saying the word is a physical release, and he shivers as he unconsciously spreads his knees further apart to accommodate his swelling member. He feels Akashi’s hand on his head, massaging his scalp soothingly, and presses his mouth against the heat of the other’s growing hardness through his clothes, tightening his grip on his shorts.

“You’ve been so good, Tetsuya,” Akashi purrs, and it’s like a physical stroke to Kuroko, makes him hold back a whine. “But you overworked yourself, staying so far away from me,” Akashi continues, and gives the slightest tug of Kuroko’s hair to keep his attention, drawing out a sharp inhale. “Maybe you need to be punished.”

Kuroko presses his forehead into Akashi’s hip, parting his lips on an airy whine. Akashi slides his hand down and brushes his thumb over Kuroko’s cheek, and Kuroko readily turns his face into the warm palm of his hand, fisting his shaking hands in Akashi’s shorts. He  _has been good_ , has been doing everything he can, has been trying  _so hard_ to fix things by himself ever since leaving Teikō—and he’s  _tired_ , feels overworked, unbearably weak, barely able to remain upright on his knees. Akashi sighs, gently tilting Kuroko’s face to the side, and he wonders absently if Akashi’s eyes have already adjusted to the dark. It wouldn’t surprise him.

“It’s my fault that you had to work so hard,” Akashi says, speaking soft and low, just right to quiet Kuroko’s mind until he’s acting only on instinct and command. “What do you think, Tetsuya? Should you have a reward, instead?”

Kuroko makes a sound of want that he doesn’t even recognize, continues to mouth Akashi’s palm before Akashi firmly grips his chin and presses his thumb against his bottom lip, letting Kuroko carefully swipe his tongue out to taste him without reprimand. He just hums in approval and sinks his digit into his mouth, letting Kuroko suckle needily before he presses down on his tongue, then drags the rough pad of his thumb over the muscle, leaving a phantom trail of friction and salt, pulling at Kuroko’s bottom lip again, wiping saliva down his chin.

Kuroko opens his eyes to find them adjusted to the darkness, looks up at Akashi and involuntarily clenches his thighs at the intensely possessive expression on the other’s face even as he’s cast in shadows. Dropping his hand, Akashi takes a step back and observes Kuroko, tilting his head slightly to the side in thought. Kuroko doesn’t move from his position on his knees no matter how uncomfortable it is, knows better than to act without instruction right now. Akashi appears to reach a decision, tucking his hands into his pockets and looking down his nose at him coldly.

“Take your clothes off,” he says.

Kuroko briefly shuts his eyes while quickly obeying the command, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to the side before freezing with his hands on his pants. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to move from his knees, isn’t sure how to get his pants off in this position. One glance up at Akashi’s hard expression is enough to urge him into motion, hastily shoving his gym shorts and briefs down to his knees, ignoring the chill of exposure. A sliver of humiliation burns his ears as he’s forced onto his hands and knees in order to clumsily slide the clothes off of his lower legs.

“Where’s your lube, Tetsuya?”

Kuroko stays on all fours with his head bowed, limbs vibrating with nervous energy as he stares at the seam on the edge of his futon.

“I don’t have any,” he says.

The silence following his words is enough to make him want to raise his head, but his instincts tell him to freeze in place, to not even breathe too loudly. Kuroko listens intently to the sounds of Akashi’s slow approach, the rustling of fabric as he kneels in front of him, and flinches at the unexpected contact when Akashi tilts Kuroko’s head up with a finger under his chin to press a chaste kiss to his chapped lips.

“You’ve really neglected yourself, haven’t you?” he whispers, lips teasing his as he speaks. “On your back, Tetsuya.”

Kuroko holds his breath, nods, and reluctantly pulls away from the other’s touch to lie down on his back with his knees bent, staring up at the ceiling. Akashi positions himself in front of him, the picture of calm as he takes in Kuroko’s body with his eyes and pulls three objects out of his pockets, setting them to the side before Kuroko can get a good look at them. The sound of a bottle uncapping requires no explanation, however, and Kuroko’s heart rate accelerates in anticipation, his hands curling against the futon beneath him as he widens his legs. Akashi’s low, condescending chuckle reverberates up his spine, and the redhead quickly distracts him from any indignation with a generously lubed finger rubbing firmly at his hole. Kuroko inhales sharply and feels his dick hover above his abdomen as his hips give an involuntary jerk. Akashi grips his hip hard enough to bruise and holds him still as he slides in. Kuroko’s eyes flutter shut, and he tries not to clench around Akashi’s finger as he massages his inner walls, slowly working the digit in to the knuckle before sliding out, focusing on loosening his entrance, painfully thorough in his exploration, tracing around the rim until a soft whine slips past Kuroko’s parted lips, breaths coming in quiet pants in time with Akashi’s hand as he stretches him.

“You haven’t even fucked yourself since you left, have you,” Akashi says, and Kuroko gasps as another finger is pushed past his tight entrance, “I bet your hands were shaking when you cleaned yourself earlier. Were they shaking, Tetsuya?”

Kuroko tilts his head back as his spine arches from the pressure between his legs and the firm rub of skin against his prostate, breathless and wanton in his response. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Akashi prompts, and hooks his fingers.

“Yes, Taichou,” Kuroko rasps, and clenches his hands into the fabric of the futon.

“Good,” Akashi purrs, but abruptly withdraws his fingers without adding a third.

Kuroko blinks his eyes open and lifts his head to see, heart beating loudly in his ears, and catches a glimpse of a thick, black phallic object that he immediately recognizes, which forces a few quick exhales from his lungs as he recalls hours of absolute _torture_ under Akashi’s watchful gaze.

“Taichou,” he gasps, and Akashi’s eyes flick up to meet his with a challenging edge that immediately quiets any complaint, and he immediately tries to recall if Akashi ever did decide whether to punish or reward him, and which it was he decided on.

“Hug your knees,” Akashi snaps, and Kuroko hastens to follow directions, pulling his knees to his chest in a ‘V’ shape, exposing himself further.

He watches breathlessly as Akashi picks up the prostate massager, feels the large head pressing against his hole threateningly as his entrance spasms at the cool silicone-coated texture. Akashi slowly pushes the toy past his slick entrance, but because Akashi left him tight, the stretch is full and nerve-wracking and completely satisfying, makes Kuroko drop his head back on the futon and tighten his hold on his knees.

“You take it so well, Tetsuya,” Akashi says, and pushes the object all the way in, until Kuroko can feel the head pressing firmly against his prostate, the entire object large and distracting inside him, commanding his attention despite his aching erection. “You’re such a good boy for me, such a loyal dog.”

Kuroko shivers, wishing more than ever for something to hold onto besides the bed as Akashi manipulates the toy, rubbing into his prostate in a slow massage.

“Running away from your master, but never betraying him…never asking anyone else to help you… What am I going to do with you, Tetsuya?” Akashi sighs and puts pressure on his prostate, then pulls back teasingly. “How many times did you touch yourself without my permission?”

Kuroko moans under his breath, arching his back to rock down and meet Akashi’s prodding. “Always wanted to ask,” he pants, turning his head to the side and speaking half into the pillow, “I wanted to…”

Akashi makes a ‘tsk’ sound through his teeth, but massages Kuroko’s thigh with his free hand—a reassurance that he isn’t angry, is just frustrated. “How many times were you too stubborn to call? How many times did you come with my number pulled up on your phone without ever dialing?”

“So many, so many times, I—” Kuroko’s voice cuts off in a gasp as Akashi’s hand leaves his thigh and grips his pulsing hard-on.

He looks through his mussed bangs in time to see Akashi spit onto his member and shudders at the rough, perfect tugs on his length, can’t stop his grip on his legs from slipping until he’s barely holding on at all. “Taichou, I can’t…”

“Drop them,” he says, and Kuroko has less than a few seconds to enjoy the relief from letting his heels dig into the futon before Akashi picks up a red cock ring from beside him and rolls it past the head of his erection before he can object, at which point any and all objection devolves into a desperate whine.

“No, no Taichou please, ple—” His breath catches in his lungs and he shuts his eyes as the vice-like ring is pushed into place at the base of his shaft, unbearably tight, and as his muscles contract, he accidentally clenches around the thick massager lodged inside him, pushing on his prostate, setting off a chain reaction through his body of tensing and moaning.

“Put your hands above your head,” Akashi says, and Kuroko, despite breathing heavily and having difficulty feeling his face, does as he’s told.

Kuroko opens his eyes as Akashi stands and walks leisurely to Kuroko’s open closet, leaving him writhing in equal pleasure and discomfort as he casually sorts through his hanging clothing, finding his old school uniform and carefully sliding the black tie from Teikō off the hanger. It sends a jolt to Kuroko’s cock, and he groans tightly as his attention is once again divided between the large object inside him and the ring at the base of his shaft. With his eyes wincing shut again, he misses Akashi returning to his side and shivers at the feel of silk sliding over the skin of his wrists as Akashi methodically ties them together above his head, cinching them tightly but ensuring his hands don’t lose circulation or rub together uncomfortably. When he’s done, he slides his hands down Kuroko’s arms affectionately.

“You remember the stoplight?” he says gently, and Kuroko nods absently, sweat beading at his forehead as Akashi takes his pillow and carefully sits behind him with his back to the wall, maneuvering Kuroko into a partially propped position between his legs with his back to Akashi’s clothed body, placing his bound hands up over Akashi’s head and around his neck, straining Kuroko’s arms and shoulders just enough to feel good.

“Red, yellow, green,” Kuroko pants, drops his head back on Akashi’s pectoral and receives a few quick pumps of his length in reward before he hears an ominous click and loses his thoughts all together.

Strong, continuous vibrations push directly into his prostate and pull a series of breathy cries from his throat as his body spasms against the onslaught of sensations. He can barely keep a lungful of air as he writhes against Akashi’s solid frame, every fiber of his clothed body pleasurable against Kuroko’s over-sensitive skin. All of his attempts to speak turn into high keens and tight moans that his throat tries to close in on as he bucks his hips upward, reflexively trying to escape the vibrations but unable to dislodge the object. Akashi holds his palm open in front of his mouth, and after a moment Kuroko hesitantly spits in his hand, which is equally humilating and arousing as Akashi takes his saliva-slicked hand and begins stroking Kuroko’s painfully swollen length in earnest, pumping with intent, never breaking pace despite Kuroko’s constant squirming. Kuroko gasps a broken mantra of  _Taichou_ , arms flexing uselessly as he tries to pull himself further up Akashi’s body, core tightening and  _tightening_  as Akashi shows off how well he remembers his preferences, how quickly he can take him apart, and Kuroko can only convulse and moan as Akashi keeps his perfect, quick rhythm, careful not to neglect the head, until his orgasm builds and hits embarrassingly fast. He comes with a high-pitched cry, hips jerking forward in Akashi’s grip, but the pleasure is followed by pain as Akashi pushes on the massager, holding it firmly against his p-spot, and Kuroko hears the second click before the vibrations change and intensify, pulsing in an intricate pattern that has him tugging desperately at his restraints to no avail as Akashi adjusts his own body beneath him, the outline of his massive cock pressing into Kuroko’s low back as the redhead continues massaging Kuroko’s unnaturally hard length with his other hand, using his cum for lubricant.

Kuroko tenses and writhes, gasping as his body attempts to process the overstimulation, and Akashi hooks his legs over Kuroko’s to keep them pinned down. Kuroko lets out a pained cry of _Taichou_ as he arches his back against his captain’s searing body heat, but Akashi only changes the setting of the massager with an unsympathetic ‘click,’ sending Kuroko into another fit of moans as his body tries to orgasm and fails.

“You want me to take out the vibrator?” Akashi purrs into his hair, pumping his length harder in emphasis.

Kuroko winces and turns his face in to bury his face in the other’s neck, bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, too far gone to feel embarrassed by the drool falling from the corner of his parted lips onto Akashi’s t-shirt as the pulsing against his prostate changes pattern again, throwing his building orgasm off again and tearing an agonized whine from his throat. “ _Taichou…_ ”

“That bad, huh?”

“ _Please.._.”

“Bad enough to transfer to Rakuzan?”

Kuroko fails to cut off a moan by biting his tongue and goes pliant against Akashi’s body, hips twitching with every pulse inside him and every one of Akashi’s languid strokes. He manages to get the words out through harsh breaths and gritted teeth. “Thats—that isn’t, I _can’t_ —”

“That’s fine,” Akashi says lowly, and with another click turns the vibrations all the way up, shocking Kuroko’s body into stillness with a soundless cry before the pleasure mixes with pain and overtakes him, wracking his trembling form.

Kuroko feels the edge, is seconds from coming a second time when Akashi stops pumping his length and reaches down between his legs, then pushes his finger firmly into the indentation between his entrance and his testicles, his voice heated but no less commanding in his ear.

“If you come before I say so, I will drag you into the bathroom by your hair, tie your hands to the shower head, and leave you there with a vibrater up your ass all night, do you understand?”

Kuroko lets out a dry sob, shutting his eyes tightly and nodding his head, and focuses all of his energy on tightening his PC muscles the way Akashi painstakingly taught him last year, his body fighting against him as the cock ring doesn’t allow his erection to flag and the vibrations pulse steadily inside him. By the time he feels the edge recede, he is panting harder than before, thighs quaking uncontrollably.

Akashi coos soothingly in his ear, massaging his taint briefly before sliding both of his hands up Kuroko’s sides, settling on his twitching hips and squeezing, then continuing up his body until he can carefully remove Kuroko’s wrists from around his neck and lower them to rest on his chest. Akashi reaches to the side and the vibrations inside him come to a sudden halt with one more ‘click,’ and Kuroko sags against Akashi’s frame completely with relief, tears flowing down his cheeks as that relief quickly becomes something else when the toy is carefully removed from his ass and he is left empty and clenching with an unwavering, leaking erection. Akashi wraps an arm around Kuroko’s torso and easily handles his weight as he rolls him over, Kuroko’s back to the futon, and hovers over him. Kuroko opens his eyes and shudders as he’s faced with the muscular lines of Akashi’s chest as he discards his shirt, watching Kuroko hungrily, like a meal for the slaughter.

“I don’t want to play on separate teams anymore, Tetsuya,” he says, pushing down his shorts and untucking himself from his briefs, “I need you with me. You saved us, but I need you to understand that.”

Kuroko’s eyes feast on the swollen head of Akashi’s impressive length, clenching his thighs and unconsciously reaching out his bound hands, which are swiftly smacked away as Akashi finds the small bottle of lube he must have brought with him and works it onto his length, eyes glinting as he takes in Kuroko’s body. Kuroko feels shame creep up his neck as he imagines how pliant and needy he appears, how flushed and covered in sweat and tears and cum he is. It makes him harder, imagining it, and he curses under his breath. He feels unbearably empty, and Akashi’s length is thick and hard and full and _right there_ , and it’s been  _so long_ and if he could just—

“I won’t fuck you until you understand,” Akashi says, and something in his eyes tells Kuroko that he means it.

“Taichou,” he breathes, arching and tilting his head back to expose his neck in submission, pleading.

Akashi’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t come any closer, doesn’t touch him, doesn’t even speak.

“I can’t...I told Kagami-kun…and the team...”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Kuroko realizes. His lungs seize as Akashi’s eyes flash with rage, and he tugs Kuroko in by behind his knees, hovering his face above his, his erection brushing Kuroko’s twitching length. “Why?”

The question stops Kuroko’s heart for a moment, goes against every response he was expecting from Akashi; he expected an order, a counter-attack, a threat. Kuroko gapes. “What?”

“Why did you become his shadow? Why did you leave?” Akashi clarifies, fiery eyes searching Kuroko’s face.

Kuroko tries to calm his fast-beating heart, moves his bound hands up and over Akashi’s head, resting them around the back of his neck. He says the answer before he understands it. “So I could defeat you,” he says, barely audible.

“Why, Kuroko?”

Kuroko stares up at Akashi, eyebrows pulling together as he tries to put into words why he needed to defeat the Miracles, why he needed to face Akashi and prove to him that his way was wrong, that he could… _Ah_.

“So you would come back,” he whispers, watching as Akashi’s expression gradually softens, and makes his chest ache with a different sort of need.

Leaning closer, Akashi brushes his lips over his cheekbone, gently takes Kuroko’s straining sex in his hand and strokes him slowly, whispering in his ear.

“I’m right here, Tetsuya,” he says, something tender and hard to define lacing his voice, “now it’s your turn to come back.”

Akashi’s voice in his ear and the heat of his exhale run chills down his spine, make him slowly hook his legs over his hips, clinging tightly to his neck and arching into the touch. Kuroko rolls his head to the side and pulls Akashi in tighter with his wrists, sighing at the feel of muscles shifting under skin as he feels the head of Akashi’s length press against his hole, but go no further.

“Do you understand?”

Nodding, Kuroko closes his eyes and melts beneath him, shifting his hips to try to get closer, to coax Akashi in.

“Yes, Taichou,” he says, and feels Akashi’s grin against his cheek, just before he pushes in, thick and hot and stretching his hole. Kuroko parts his lips in a silent gasp, then grits his teeth against the mixed pleasure and pain as Akashi gently rocks into him, easing himself inside in increments.

Akashi gently thrusts into his over-sensitive prostate with a soft moan, eliciting a pained gasp from Kuroko, who tightens his legs around his hips and urges him in harder.

“Impatient… You’ve gotten spoiled while I was away,” Akashi says lightly, voice gravelly with exertion as he increases his pace, forcing those soft little _‘uh, uh, uh’_ s out of Kuroko’s mouth that Akashi  _loves_  and Kuroko  _hates_  but can’t control. “You make such nice sounds, Tetsuya.”

The praise unfurls pleasure in Kuroko’s core despite himself, and he presses his head back into the pillow, focusing on the feel of Akashi wrapped around him, inside him, caging him against the bed, abs rubbing against his swollen, over-sensitive cock with every thrust until it’s hard to think, and all Kuroko can do is be possessed, detach from his mind and let Akashi manage his body for him, let his ruthless pounding inside him tear more cries from his throat as sweat drips down from Akashi’s bangs onto Kuroko’s face.

Kuroko is almost positive he is drooling again, can feel it on his chin and pillow as he turns his head and presses his cheek into the cushion, mouth stuck open in a succession of breathless moans that leave his throat raw as Akashi pushes his knees up higher and bends him in half, fucks him hard and fast and deep until Kuroko can’t even keep his arms around his neck, drops his bound wrists above his own head and feels his head lull to the other side, everything numb and buzzing except for the unbearable pleasure and the single-mindedness of desire that makes Kuroko beg breathlessly for  _more, more, more_ , until Akashi gags him with three fingers and growls into his ear that  _needy little sluts take what they can get_ , which makes Kuroko moan louder around his digits, because  _yes, yes, Taichou, please._

Akashi is getting close, is getting rougher and rougher, grips Kuroko’s hair and tugs his head further to the side to expose his neck as his thrusts get less and less considerate, and Kuroko can’t _wait_  because everytime it hurts he sees white behind his eyelids, feels everything twist into a bone-deep pleasure that only his taichou can give him. That pleasure begins to peak, and Kuroko’s eyes fly open in a moment of panic with the realization that Akashi never gave him permission to come.

“Taichou,” he gasps, voice unmistakably tight, and Akashi tugs his hair harder, pulling another cry from his lips.

“You can come, Tetsuya, you did so good, you did so…” Akashi’s breathless words trail off as he drops his forehead to rest against Kuroko’s temple, and Kuroko is barely done processing the statement before his hips are jerking and his orgasm is rolling through him, causing his back to arch and his muscles to seize and stiffen, his arms putting tension in his wrist binding as a small amount of cum is forced from his sore member and smears onto the other’s abdomen. Akashi is quick to follow, breathing hard against his cheekbone as he shudders and releases inside him, the feeling of Akashi’s hot seed spilling draws out a low moan from Kuroko’s chest as Akashi thrusts through his orgasm, milking himself into Kuroko’s abused hole. Kuroko shivers and keens as he realizes he is still mostly hard, cock ring vice-like and painful around the base of his shaft, and Akashi seems to understand the cause of the pitiful sound as he reaches down and carefully removes the ring, discarding it somewhere beside them. Kuroko’s cock throbs even as it flags, and he clenches around Akashi’s slowly softening length as their breaths gradually begin to even out. Kuroko is still staring at the wall in a daze when he feels the other withdraw from him. He doesn’t have the energy to do more than twitch, can’t even lift his head from the pillow, can’t even seem to close his mouth.

“Hey, hey.” Kuroko feels a hand slide under his head and right his neck, and Akashi’s slightly blurred face comes into view. “Breathe.”

Akashi’s clinical, commanding tone pierces the fog of his mind, and Kuroko inhales sharply, taking a few long, slow breaths as Akashi mumbles a quiet,  _Good boy_ and brushes his fingers through Kuroko’s hair, smooths the muscles above his eyebrows out with his thumbs.

It isn’t until much later, cradled in Akashi’s arms with his head pillowed on the team captain’s chest, that Kuroko becomes aware of the fact Akashi has tucked himself back into his pants, sat back against the wall and pillow, wrapped Kuroko in a blanket, untied his wrists, and arranged him comfortably between his legs. Kuroko slowly blinks and is briefly puzzled by not immediately feeling the remnants of cum and sweat and lube on or in his body. He somewhat recalls Akashi wiping him down, remembers something cold and wet between his thighs, prodding at his sensitive entrance. Kuroko shivers and buries his nose in Akashi’s neck, inhales his familiar scent and closes his eyes, clutches the soft blanket tighter around his shoulders as fatigue sets in. Akashi seems to sense Kuroko’s return to lucidity, and gently scoots Kuroko out so he can slide away from the wall and lie down completely, enfolding Kuroko in his arms and pulling him in close, tucking Kuroko’s head beneath his chin, pillowing his head with his chest, and wrapping his arms around his waist. Kuroko opens his mouth to speak, but hesitates. After a few false starts, he finds the words.

“How big is your place in Kyoto?” he asks. Nerves make his voice quake, but he can’t find the energy to care.

Akashi goes still for a moment before resuming combing his fingers through Kuroko’s hair in soothing strokes. “Big enough,” he says, voice soft and velvety.

Kuroko presses his mouth to Akashi’s warm skin and breathes him in. City sounds echo up from the streets, vague suggestions of activity, and the room is slightly colder than Kuroko would like it to be. But Akashi is a warm body and squeezes his blanket-clad shoulder and smells like sweat, and Kuroko can hear a promise in his voice as he says _Sleep, Kuroko_  in that night-thickened drawl that his memory could never do justice. So he wraps his arms around Akashi’s waist and takes one deep breath after another, tells himself that Akashi knows him well enough to understand what he can’t put in words: that he never forgot, that he will never forget.

_‘The one who discovered your talent is me. You’ll come to realize what that means.’_

Kuroko holds fast to his captain, and knows what it means.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a dream sequence whatever sUE mE
> 
> Anyway I thought writing this would be fun and it was...for me.
> 
> Hopefully for you,
> 
> but probably mostly for me.
> 
> <3


End file.
